


Well I met you right (but I kept you wrong)

by coolest



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Character Development, Coming of Age, F/M, Flashbacks, Friendship, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, London, M/M, Moving On, Self-Discovery, Sexual Content, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolest/pseuds/coolest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of how Harry accidentally fell in love with some dude who, surprisingly, didn't’t do the whole ‘love’ trend. </p><p>(Or; the one where maybe HarryandLouis never should’ve  ‘just happened.')</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well I met you right (but I kept you wrong)

**Author's Note:**

> i posted this a while back but deleted it so i could edit it, but since we all know how shit i am with that, don't expect this to be something great
> 
> i love this one though, it's probably one of my favourite i've written and i really hope you guys enjoy it to
> 
> Title Credits go to Bombay Bicycle Club for their song 'Dust On The Ground'  
> This story is slightly based off the movie '500 hundred days of Summer' and is what gave me the inspiration to write it.  
> I don't own the characters in this story- obviously- and would highly agree on not reading this story if you're sensitive towards the mentioning of past depression, divorce, heartbreak etc. I don't know what else there is to warn in the tags or in here so if there is that you find, pls comment below so i can tag them. 
> 
> BTW I AM TERRIBLY SORRY IF THE TIMELINES MESS YOU UP I AM LAZY AND IMPATIENT SORRY 
> 
> Uh, yeah, so enjoy this super angst-y fic in which harry loves too much like he does in all my other stories and louis doesn't love at all

LONDON: THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL, AUGUST 2014

The first time they meet is right in the heart of summer, at a Flume concert. 

In all his twenty-one years of living in the United Kingdom, never has Harry ever experienced a summer’s night as unbearable as this one. The area is way too overpopulated to be considered even a little bit healthy and Harry can’t take a deep breath in without feeling as if he’s being chocked. 

Somehow, through the heap of people he had squeezed through in his attempt at getting to the bar, he’s managed to lose his friends. He groans loudly, annoyed and sweaty, before leaning over the bar counter and ordering another beer. The bartender winks at him when she gives him the bottle and he nods his head politely in her direction, too worn out to tell her that he doesn’t swing anywhere near her team. 

He tips his head back and takes large gulps; mind getting even hazier than it had already been with all the shots Nick had shoved down his throat earlier on. Satisfied and quenched, he pulls the bottle away from his wet lips and smirks at the girl behind the counter, who looks as if she’s about to pass out, before turning around and immediately colliding straight into a small human being. Because of the sudden impact, Harry drops his drink onto the cement and winces as he watches an entire bottle of beer go to waist. 

When he looks up, he catches a quick glimpse of the same fucking giant he’d seen earlier on, wearing tight red skinny jeans and a bloody leather jacket in this scorching heat. 

Not to brag, but Harry’s always prided himself in being the most calm and collected person he knew. Compared to Gemma, Nick and Liam, who lose their shit over teeny tiny little things, Harry’s a saint. He rarely gets angry, or frustrated, and when he is angry, frustrated, or both, than there’s probably a good, valid reason behind it. Plus, it’s not like he goes around throwing shit- like Liam-, shouting and kicking chairs over- like Gemma-, purposely making sure that nothing in the life of the person who’s pissed him off is ever right again- like Nick- or burning down cities till all that’s left of them are the ashes of what used to be there. All he does is complain and whine, which is annoying for other people, but it also won’t serve him jail time so… 

Anyway, right now Harry’s whining and complaining because he’s just come to the painful realisation that the small human being that had collided into him had also spilt their beer all the way down Harry’s white top, leaving him soaked everywhere above his belt. 

(When he’s older, Harry makes sure to leave out this whole section to the story when he’s grandkids ask him about his first, actual, adult love and his first actual, adult, heartbreak. Instead, he remixes it a bit- adds some spice here and there to make it seem less cliché. Nothing about their first encounter is romantic or beautiful. It’s defiantly not something important enough for Harry to retell.)

“Fucking hell mate,” he hisses as the boy pulls himself off Harry and airs out his own, equally as wet top. “My top is absolutely ruined.”

(Call it what you want. But the whole incident could never have been romantic. Like, maybe, in an alternate universe, but Harry would have to not be soaked with beer at any time of the day.)

The small human laughs and Harry looks up at the sound, sharp and distinct even over the loud music buzzing through their veins. At the same time as Harry looks up, so does the small human and the minute their eyes meet, Harry’s mind goes black of all thoughts that had been thought of before all of this. 

(Now this is where the story officially begins. The story of Harry’s first, inevitable heartbreak and how he lost his shit, but got it back again eventually (later on in his life though), in the process.) 

The small human standing in front of him is by far the most beautiful human being in the world and everything outside of it. In fact, he’s almost disgustingly beautiful. Due to zero amount of shame Harry’s never felt, he’s quick to throw whatever was left of his dignity and doesn’t hesitate with giving the boy an obvious once over- from his hair, to the see through t-shit he’s wearing, past the sinfully black skinny jeans that hug his hips in the most delicious way possible, all the way down to the falling apart black vans he’s got on his feet.

When their eyes meet again, the boy grins- all sharp teeth, flushed cheeks and luminous eyes. He moves closer towards Harry, pressing his chest right against his and aiming his mouth just at his ear. “I’m really sorry about everything, love.” He tells him, body going pliant against Harry’s when Harry’s hands automatically come up from his sides to rest at the curve of the other boys back. He presses a sneaky kiss on the boys cheeks and holds his breathe when he leans back a little so that he’s looking up at Harry, feet flat against the floor now since he’d been on his tippy toes. 

Is it normal to look so fucking ethereal? Like, what the fuck? This boy is so pretty. Looking at him is making Harry question everything he ever thought was right before this moment right here. 

His eyes are bright and blue, lips swollen and red, cheekbones outrageously sharp and endearingly tinted red from the heat- or, hopefully, Harry himself, which it had been- and the loose top he’s wearing shows off the dip of his collarbones, large enough to put the craters on the moon to shame. 

The overwhelming urge to consume as much as he could of this beautiful, beautiful human being is getting too hard to ignore. Harry wants to leave marks all along the curve of his neck, wants to know how his body reacts to being fucked good into the mattress of a bed he isn’t used to.

Fuck. “It’s okay. “ he replies, even though it isn’t. “It wasn’t your fault.” He says because at least that’s true. Louis could not have left his home to intentionally knock a bottle of great beer down Harry’s new white top and also break one in the process. 

Harry silently wishes for lightening to strike Nick at whatever spot he’s standing at currently because the shots he’d made him down earlier on as well as the all the beers and the one fruity cocktail he’d drank, are making his speech a lot more slower than usual, which would be dreadful if it weren’t for the fat smile adorning the boy’ sharp features. The beauty and brightness of the smile is enough for Harry to feel like he’s been slapped sober. 

“I’m Louis,” the boy introduces, lips pressing against Harry’s ear again and sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. “Just by the way.” He adds teasingly, placing his hand flat against Harry’s cheek, but only after Harry had wrapped his arm around Louis’ waist so confidently you would’ve thought they were in love. 

(He should’ve seen the warning signs- should’ve listened to his heart when it told him that Louis’ heart wasn’t as beautiful as his smile was. It had felt too comfortable and he’d mistaken the frantic beating of his heart as infatuation when all it had been was fear- danger, sort of.)

“That’s quite the name, huh?” Harry says, chuckling when Louis laughs breathlessly into his ear. “I’m Harry. Just Harry.”

He feels Louis smile and wishes to see it. “Harry,” he repeats slowly, “just Harry.”

Harry squeezes his waist and nods his head, breathing out an amused “yeah,” before continuing to say, “It’s not Louis, but it’s a decent name and I can’t complain anyways- it’s too late.” 

“Way to late.” Louis laughs, arms snaking around his neck. Harry mentally gives himself a pat on the back for have made him laugh twice in the span on six minutes, or so. 

When Louis pulls back, it’s to down tequila from a shot glass he swiped from some drunken teenagers that just walked past them. Harry’s unable to look away from the sight of Louis’ neck while he’s head is tipped back, and even when he brings his head back up, Harry can’t take his eyes off of him- he seriously can’t. He’d probably be able to if he were a little bit more sober and a lot less horny, but he’s not either of those to and that’s the only excuse he’s got for now.

And, like, isn’t it sort of pathetic how Harry’s urge to fuck him as suddenly been towered over by his sudden urge to tell him how spectacular he is, and that even through his drunken haze and foggy mind, as well as his terribly uncoordinated limbs, he sort of wants him forever if that’d be okay with him. 

He doesn’t end up telling Louis that because there are two shots being handed to him by all his friends, who’ve shown up from the air, and Louis. 

The rest of the night after that is a blur, but if you were to ask him, later- two years down from now- he’d probably lie and tell you about the raucous sound of Niall’s laugh, meeting Stan and Eleanor- Louis’ mates-, witnessing Eleanor attempt to hook up with a very gay and very engaged Nicholas Grimshaw and having lived to see the expression Sophia made after Liam throw up all over her. 

What he never wants to forget though (oh, he’ll want to forget one day) is all the feelings he’d felt coursing through his body that night. He wants to remember the slow grind of Louis’ arse against his cock as they practically fucked on the dance floor, the shine of his eyes and how they fucking illuminated under the strobe lights. He wants to remember the way he’d been kissed by Louis the first time that night, against a brick wall that had left scratches on Harry’s elbows. 

(And fuck, he should’ve known right then and there that they had not been made to love one another. The evidence had been right in front of him, staring at him with darkened blue eyes and large pupils. However, Harry had been lured in by the way Louis’ lips had looked and when they kissed, their lips slot together so well. Louis had felt so good around his him, had looked so good above Harry, bouncing on cock like his life depended on it, begging for Harry to fuck him harder, leaving praises into the crook of his neck when he’d climaxed, sobbing at how good it was. All Harry had ever wanted was to be loved and wanted, so he’d ignored the warning signs and didn’t disagree to a second round of sex, didn’t refuse to fuck into Louis faster when he asked.)

*

When Harry wakes up later on that day, at 2 pm, Louis’ spread across him like some fat tumour. Harry can’t help but think; oh god, this boy will be the death of me.

 

LONDON: AFTER

It isn’t the same anymore and Harry can’t pinpoint where exactly it all went wrong. 

And it’s a bloody shame because despite their sudden fall out, Harry’s still hopelessly infatuated with Louis- the biggest arsehole in the entire universe. 

It’s all so fucking pathetic. Being in love is not as beautiful as it’s made out to be and part of Harry wishes he didn’t love as much as he did because when he loves he loves a lot- enough to keep the sun burning in the middle of the solar system for a couple more billion years than it’s been estimated too. 

“Haz!” Louis cries outs loudly, pulling Harry out of his thoughts as he throws his head back and arches his back. Harry fucks him through his orgasm, hand wrapped around Louis’ cock. “Oh fuck,” he pants, releasing the tight grip he had on the nape of Harry’s neck. He latches his bottom set of teeth onto his top lip to stop himself from crying out more at the over-sensitivity that he’s feeling currently as Harry continues to pound into him, chasing his own orgasm. 

Harry grunts loudly and buries his head in the crook of Louis’ neck. He nibbles on the sensitive skin there and thrusts into him six more times before spilling into the condom with a low moan that’s got Louis gasping into his ear. 

Once the aftershocks of his orgasm have passed, he drops his head down onto the sharp bone of Louis’ collarbones and kisses the love bite that’s slowly starting to bloom there. 

Tracing his fingers down Harry’s spine, Louis lets out a shaky breathe before mumbling “Harry” softly. 

Raising his head slowly to meet his gaze, Harry’s heartbeat quickens at how pretty Louis looks beneath him. His eyes are midnight blue and droopy; like he’s using all the little energy he’s got left in him to keep his eyes open. There’s a lazy smile on his swollen lips and his skin is glowing from the sex and the sweat that came with the sex. He’s so beautiful. 

“What?” Harry answers, voice raspier and deeper than usual. Louis chuckles softly and rests both his hands flat on Harry’s chest. 

“Get out of me,” he says, “’m so tired.” 

Reluctantly, and to Louis’ amusement, Harry rolls off of him and lies beside him. Their shoulders are touching and suddenly it’s so quiet between the two of them- not in that comfortable way that it used to be but just really awkward and uncomfortable. It’s so weird now and it never used to be. 

And, like, it’s not as if the sex has gotten bad or something because it most defiantly has not. It’s great actually, fucking mind blowing actually, it’s just that Harry wants to make love to Louis again- like they used to. He wants to take Louis apart slowly, watching him come undone by just touching him, by just telling him that he loves him. He wants to run his hands down Louis’ outrageous body and watch his response to every thrust of Harry’s hips into him. He wants to litter love bites all over him, hear him whisper ‘I love you’ against Harry’s mouth as they kiss slowly- as if they’ve got all the time in the world. 

Don’t get him wrong, Harry really enjoys fucking Louis- loves the bruising kisses and clashing teeth and filthy moans and hair pulling and red moon crescent nail marks he leaves on Louis’ hips as well as the scratches scaring all the way down his back. 

He loves it all- whatever he can get from Louis he loves. Trust him. He just wishes things were different nowadays. 

“Are you alright?” Louis asks, voice soft and questioning as if the sound of Harry’s heart breaking isn’t loud enough for him to hear. 

Harry’s throat is dry but his bones are too heavy to lift his hand and get the glass of water sitting on the bedside beside him. No, he wants to say, he’s not alright and he probably isn’t ever going to be alright again for a very long time because Louis’ a selfish fucking prick who’s ruined him for anyone else in this godforsaken world. 

“Yeah,” he says instead, forcing out a chuckle and turning onto his side to look at the side profile of Louis’ face. The semen’s getting tacky now on his skin, dry and sticky. Harry’s tired. “I’m always alright, aren’t I?” 

LONDON: BEFORE

It’s Sunday morning and it’s been thirty-three days since he last saw Louis, which is totally cool. 

Because it’s still summer, the sun comes up early and since Sunday’s have always been Harry’s favourite days, he wakes up that morning and drags Niall and Liam down to his favourite café a street down from their apartment. 

“I’m just saying,” Niall whines, not giving up, “I think it sounds like a pretty ace fucking idea.” 

Liam snorts. “No it doesn’t.” He deadpans as they push open the doors of the café and slide into the booth they sit in every time they come here. “You’re truly the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met ever in my entire life.” He says, locking his phone quickly before placing it by his elbows, which are propped up on the table. He looks up and meets Niall’s gaze. “Did you know that?” 

Niall cackles too loudly and rolls his eyes at him, sighing overdramatically at the same time. “Oh fuck off you useless arse.” He turns his attention to Harry who isn’t even paying attention to the conversation unfolding before him. “Harry, mate, what do you think?” 

Harry looks up and laughs. He shrugs his shoulders and says; “isn’t the whole idea of drinking coffee to, like, I don’t know, wake you up?” 

“Yeah, but so is alcohol.” Niall adds quickly. 

“Sure, but nobody wants to get drunk first thing in the morning.” Harry tries to explain, leaning forward on his elbows and resting his chin in the palm of his open hands. “Well,” he adds as an afterthought, “unless they’re an alcoholic. Plus, Jagermeister mixed with coffee doesn’t sound like the most appealing drink in the world to have at any time of the day.” 

“I think it does.” 

“That’s because you yourself are an up and coming alcoholic.” Liam tells Niall, snickering. “Anything that involves booze sounds spectacular to you.” 

Niall’s quick to shove Liam against the wall he’s sitting next to. Despite his aggressiveness, there’s a hint of a smile on his fine features that reassures them all that he’s not as angry as he’s trying to make them believe. “You’re such an arse!” he cries out, failing to bite down the grin that spreads across his face like a disease. “Fuck you.” 

Liam laughs, throws his head back and leans his body against the wall as he rubs the area on his shoulder that received the most impact when he was shoved against the wall. He lifts his head and looks at Harry, eyes bright and gleaming. “I bet Harry would love that.” He jokes, winking at him. 

Harry drops his head onto the table and rolls his eyes so far back in his head that he’s sure he caught a quick glimpse of his brain. He laughs with Liam and Niall, who are attracting unwanted attention from every single person in the café with how loud they’re laughing. 

When he lifts his head up, they’re still curled up in on themselves laughing wildly. “I hate you two so fucking much.” 

This is a good time to tell you that Harry’s a strong believer in fate, in the concept that everything happens for a reason. 

And this is also a good time to tell you that Louis Tomlinson, unsurprisingly, is not a believer in fate. 

What happens after this can be seen in two ways. The first way is can be seen as is good and, as predicted, the second way it can be seen as is very, very, bad. 

Because when Harry’s eyes search through the room they’re in and looks past Niall and Liam’s gigantic heads, his eyes automatically meet a familiar pair of pale blue eyes and when his brain finally catches him with his uncontrollable emotions, he quickly comes to the realisation that the pair of disgustingly beautiful eyes staring back at him belong to Louis Tomlinson. 

As in, thee Louis Tomlinson- the boy who cost him a fifteen pound plain white top and never actually bought him a new one despite promising that he would, but instead paid him back by letting Harry fuck him into his mattress later that night. 

Anyways, Louis Tomlinson is standing behind the counter where you pay and Harry would be lying to all the seven billion (plus) people on this earth if he said his heart hasn’t swelled to the size of the sun. 

Grinning, Louis waves at him frantically, almost manically, like Harry’s unable to see him. “Oh my god!” he exclaims excitedly, putting down the cloth in his hand and jumping over the counter to run to Harry. “Harry!” 

Harry stands up quickly and catches Louis when he comes barrelling into him. Of course, they stumble back a little bit but he doesn’t let his grip around Louis’ waist falter even a little bit. He isn’t sure what that means, but it doesn’t seem good. Not wanting to think about these worth-calling-your-mum feelings, Harry buries his face into the crook of Louis’ neck and breathes him in. He smells of freshly baked muffins, coffee, spicy cologne and shampoo. 

“Oh.” Is all Harry manages to say, mouth still full of Louis’ hair. “I didn’t expect to run into you.” 

Louis giggles into his shoulder and takes a step back. “I work here love.” He tells Harry, biting down on his bottom lip and looking up at him with big blue eyes. “I need the money y’know, mummy and daddy aren’t always going to pay for everything of mine for the rest of my life.” 

Harry frowns and has to clench his fist to stop himself from saying something that would ruin this beautiful moment. Louis slides into the other side of the booth, opposite from him, next to Niall. When he looks up, his lips are tilted up into something that resembles a smile, but then again Harry’s not sure. 

“Hey,” he whines pathetically, sliding back into the booth and ignoring both Niall and Liam’s curious gazes. “That isn’t very nice.” 

Louis leans forward and scrunches his nose cutely. “I never said I was nice, did I?” he says teasingly, smiling playfully. 

As Harry opens his mouth to reply, a think black book is being thrown directly onto Louis’ head and when everyone looks up in shock to see who did it, they’re met with the sight of a very pretty and very petite girl. She’s wearing heavy eyeliner; her eyes are outrageously blue and her hair’s lilac. 

The name on her nametag reads ‘Perrie.’ It suits her. 

“Of c’mon Lou, it’s not your break yet.” She whines, walking towards them with her arms crossed over her chest. “You can kiss your boyfriend later.” She remarks playfully, eyes falling on Harry briefly before moving back to meet Louis’ glare. 

“He isn’t my boyfriend!” Louis argues, eyebrows furrowed cutely and hand pressed against his forehead where the book hit him. “And please Pez, please can this be my break instead?” 

“But it’s my break.” 

“When it’s my actual break I promise you can take it Pez. Please, I promise, I’ll ever close up tonight.” 

Perrie rolls her eyes and sighs, like she’s cursing herself for even considering Louis’ offer. “You’re so attractive,” she mutters angrily, “it’s hard to even think of saying no to your dumb cheekbones.” She looks at everyone at the table, face void of any emotion, before turning around and strutting back to stand behind the counter and pull a fake smile for the customers. 

There’s a brief silence before Liam breaks it by saying; “she’s lovely” as they all watch her walk off. Louis quickly turns his body to look at him and laughs. 

“Tell me about it.” 

“She’s also a total fucking babe.” Niall adds shamelessly, eyes still trained on her as she serves customers on the other side of the café. “I’d fuck her so hard.” 

Embarrassed, both Harry and Liam cover their faces with their hands. Louis, however, laughs like what Niall’s just said about his friend doesn’t bother him at all. He leans back against the seat and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’d give you the heads up for that mate, if she weren’t a piping hot lesbian. Maybe next time, yeah?” 

Liam removes his hands from his face and smiles. “You’re funny.” 

“I do try.” Louis replies, grinning charmingly. 

It isn’t hard for them to fall into a conversation so easy it seems as if they’ve all known each other for decades. They talk about where they’re from, share childhood stories and laugh together like this isn’t the first time they’ve met. 

The thing is, Louis feels too familiar. They get along too well for it to be even considered normal and he isn’t sure whether that should scare him or excite him. 

“D’you believe in love?” Niall asks suddenly, sipping on his second cup of cranberry flavoured tea. Harry stops his rambling to turn and look at him with wide eyes. Part of him really wants to ask Niall why he’d ask such a personal question but another part of him also really wants to know Louis’ answer. 

Louis shakes his head. “No.” 

Harry tilts his head to the side and gasps like he’s just found out the economy’s going through a depression (again). Louis looks at him, shocked, and Harry hopes the disappointment in his eyes isn’t as obvious as he thinks it is. 

“Why?”

Louis pushes the band in his hair further back and lifts his eyes up to meet Harry’s gaze. His eyes are so blue they always take Harry off guard. “I’ve got my reasons.” He tells him defensively. “I don’t get how the idea of devoting your life to one person is so romantic. Fifty per cent of marriages always end up in divorce, which I know first hand, and the thought of being part of that fifty per cent and living through all that again as a main character, or whatever, is really fucking terrifying. Like, something always goes wrong and the chances of one of the participants getting they’re hearts inevitably broken is probably ninety-five per cent.” He runs his tongue over his bottom and top lip before continuing. “What’s so fun in waking up to the same face every fucking day? Why would you want to do that?” 

“Because-“ 

“-It just seems like this fat trend to me, you know?” No, Harry wants to scream, I don’t. “Like, one day everyone who’s ever claimed to be in love with someone is going to snap out of their trance and wonder why they ever fucking did that.” 

“Love’s really fucking beautiful though, and you can get your heart broken by anything in the world- it’s inevitable, it isn’t a deadly disease that can only be contracted through falling in love with someone. You’re running away from something inevitable. You can’t possibly believe what you’ve just said? Honestly, are you trying to tell me you don’t love anyone at all? Not even your own family?” 

Louis makes a face and rolls his eyes. “Of course I love my family you dumb ass.” He replies quite rudely.

Harry huffs nonetheless and looks up at the clock. “I’m sorry, but as much as I respect your opinion I think it’s stupid.” 

“Well, so it yours.” Louis retorts, stealing a sip of Harry’s chocolate smoothie and never releasing his gaze. “Everyone’s got their own opinions and that’s mine. Frankly, I don’t give a fuck whether you think it’s great or not. It’s my opinion.” 

Here’s the second thing- or problem- Harry’s one hundred and one per cent sure that he’s absolutely blown away by everything Louis is, and hearing that he doesn’t believe in the one thing Harry’s spent twenty-two years of his life craving for is shit. 

The rest of the day goes like this: When Harry, Niall and Liam get back to their apartment, Liam makes them all hot chocolate despite it being summer still and they all snuggle underneath a blanket in front of the TV.  
And then, Just as Harry’s about to doze off to sleep, he hears the soft rumble of Niall’s voice as he says; “’M so scared for him Li. Harry- fuck- he falls in love too quickly with people who aren’t meant to be fallen in love with and … this boy, Louis, is one of those people.” 

LONDON: AFTER

“Haz? Where you off to?” Sophia asks as he throws a jacket on and turns his back to look at her. She walks to him wearing an apron that’s got a naked mans body printed onto it. “I’m about to start making lunch.” 

Behind her, Liam is sitting at the table wearing a matching chefs hat. It’s ugly. Harry would tell him but Sophia would most probably slaughter him so. 

“I’m going to see Lou.” He tells her, watching as her smile drops into one less genuine. “I’ll be back in time to eat.” 

Liam groans loudly and Sophia doesn’t even try to hold back the worried look in her eyes. He can almost imagine the eye roll Niall’s just done from the couch. 

Whatever. “I’ll see you guys later though?” he tries, leaning down to give her a hug and pulling back when she doesn’t return it. “Love you.” 

He opens the door and it falls shut by itself behind him. As he gets into the elevator, he shoves his hands into his pockets and stares at himself in the mirror until he’s reached the bottom floor and has to get out. It’s too cold outside. Winter’s rolling in and Harry tries not to let the change of season break his heart a little bit because summer’s always been his favourite season. It’s okay though, Harry’s lived in England all his life and this type of weather is all he’s ever known- he’s gotten used to it. 

He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from the right pocket of his large jacket and places one in between his lips before lighting it up and exhaling deep, eyes fluttering close for a brief second before opening again. 

The walk down to Hyde Park isn’t long and he quickly spots Louis sitting at the tree they’ve now come to call ‘theirs’ (it isn’t.) When he gets closer, the frown on Louis’ face grows more prominent and he says, “Try not to die from lung cancer but from old age instead, you idiot.” 

Harry smiles and exhales. It’s seven pm when he sits down next to Louis; at the tree they spent a majority of the summer making out under because Niall never wanted them to in the apartment. 

Their tree- or the government’s tree- faces the lake directly. They’re sitting on a thick yellow blanket that Harry knows is his because he remembers leaving it at Louis’ place a couple weeks back. 

“Hey Lou.” He greets softly, bumming out the cigarette and sliding it back into the box.

Louis looks up at him and when their gazes meet, he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes as much as it used to. Harry swallows the panic rising in the back of his throat and takes a deep breathe. 

“Hi.” Louis greets back, moving up to allow Harry to join him underneath the blanket. Harry doesn’t refuse the offer and slips in beside him, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist immediately. Louis leans into him as if he isn’t about to break Harry’s heart- like everything between them is still the way it used to be. 

It’s always the one you love the most who cause the most hurt. 

They sit in silence together for a long time. Harry’s lungs ache with each breath he takes and his fingers keep twitching for a cigarette, but he knows how much Louis hates it when he smokes so he decides against it. 

The silence helps distract him, though. 

“Doesn’t this all feel so cliché to you?” Louis asks, breaking the silence and closing his eyes. He leans his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Boy meets boy-“ 

“-That isn’t the way any classic love story goes.” Harry cuts in, laughing when Louis laughs.  
Instead of reprimanding him for cutting him off, Louis continues by saying; “they fall in love and spend an entire year drinking tea and fucking and being so stupidly naïve to the fact that nothing ever lasts forever.” 

Harry’s heart is beating too fast and he doesn’t know whether he wants to puke, cry or run away. His arse is stuck to the ground, though, and Louis’ too warm to let go of- run away from. Plus, Harry could never run away from Louis- the fucking prick- he’s way too nice. 

“Right?” Louis says as he lifts his head up to look at Harry in the eyes. “That’s what always happens after the movies finished-“ 

“- You don’t know that for sure.” 

“-Someone always gets their heart broken and that’s life.” 

“What are you trying to say?” 

Louis’ eyes are icy blue and when he smiles, they flutter close. He leans his head forward and presses his lips against Harry’s. This feels too much like a goodbye and Harry isn’t ready for that; he doesn’t want to say goodbye to Louis- he wants them to stay together because that’s what two people who are in love do, right? Even though Louis’ never said it back, Harry can’t be the only one who feels like he might just burst from affection all the time, right?

They’ve got to be in love. 

They are in love, and Harry lets Louis run his tongue across the palate of his mouth. He lets Louis bruise his jaw with his fingers and he tries not to cry when Louis pulls back to whisper against his lips “we can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore. This feels too much like love and I can’t let my heart ever get broken.” 

Harry thinks; I would, for you-always for you.

2014, LONDON, BEFORE

It’s autumn now and Louis’ spread across Harry’s bed wearing cotton baby blue shorts and a grey jumper he’s nicked off Harry. He’s drowning in it and Harry wants to hold him forever and ever because he’s so, so right now- with his head thrown back and loud, wild laughs tumbling from his swollen lips. 

Harry, like the creep he is, has written a list of things he loves the most about Louis and it goes like this:  
1\. He loves his eyes. They’re the same shade as all the blues you’d find in the ocean, which is pretty cool.  
2\. He loves his crooked teeth.  
3\. He loves it when he doesn’t shave for a week and he gets this cute stumble around his mouth that drives harry absolutely insane.  
4\. He loves his hair, loves how long it is and the way he’s got to wear Alice bands in order to keep it out his eyes, loves how Louis loves getting his hair pulled when they fuck.  
5\. He loves his soft curves.  
6\. He loves his laugh- loud and raucous.  
7\. He loves the creases by his eyes when he laughs.  
8\. He loves the crinkles by his nose when he smiles or makes a face.  
9\. He loves his tummy.  
10\. All in all, he basically just loves all of him. 

 

2015, LONDON, AFTER

An entire season passes by, as well as another year, since Louis’ broken his heart. Sophia, Liam, Niall and Gemma are all sprawled on his bed, looking at him with sad eyes, which Harry doesn’t appreciate at all. 

“God babe,” Gemma starts, “hate to say this, but we did tell you so.” 

“We really did.” Sophia says, backing her up. “You can’t fall in love with boys like him.” 

Harry’s written a list of all the things he absolutely despises about Louis and it goes like this:  
1\. He hates his eyes. They remind him of polluted ocean water.  
2\. He hates his crooked teeth. No offense, but braces would’ve done miracles for him if he’d had them while growing up.  
3\. He hates his stubble. Thinking back, every time they kissed when Louis had grown one, Harry had always had to refrain from imagining that he was making out with an old man.  
4\. He hates his hair and he hates how long it was. Also, he wants back the bandana’s he took from him.  
5\. He hates his curves, hates how soft his skin was. His arse wasn’t as magnificent as the world makes it out to be.  
6\. He hates his laugh. It was too long, to explosive.  
7\. He hates the creases by his eyes when he laughed.  
8\. He hates how his nose crinkles (really fucking cutely) when he smiled or made a face.  
9\. He fucking hates his tummy.  
10\. He hates Louis. He hates every single little aspect of his being. 

(He doesn’t. he really, really doesn’t- actually- even though he wishes he does. If he did, maybe the hurt would hurt less.) 

 

LONDON: BEFORE

“Darling!” Harry sings when he opens the door and spins inside, “I’m home!” 

Niall’s in the kitchen and when he hears Harry, he looks up from the ipad- he’s probably playing candy crush- and rolls his eyes before going back to his game. 

Shortly after that, Louis comes out from the living room and he’s grinning so widely. A million tiny butterflies flutter in his stomach and his heartaches in a really good way. 

This boy is so beautiful. 

“I cooked you dinner.” Louis tells him, walking over towards him. Niall snickers beside him. 

“Lies,” Niall mumbles out loud, “he tried to but he almost burnt the entire flat to ashes so we ordered Nando’s instead.” 

Harry laughs and throws his bag onto the floor as Louis flips Niall off, who just shrugs his shoulders. Louis looks back at Harry and smiles, cheeks tinted pink. 

The sun’s setting outside and the colours in the sky are heavenly- pink, orange and red. They seep in through the open windows and reflect in Louis’ eyes. 

There’s a cool breeze in the apartment that makes Harry want to dance from gentle it is and Luna, by Bombay Bicycle Club, is playing softly from the stereo. 

“Hello my love.” 

“Good evening.” 

Harry bites down on his bottom lip and steps closer to wrap his arms around his waist. “Are the kids back from school?” 

Liam enters the room with Sophia trailing behind him. He’s carrying a large bowl of crisps. “Are they doing that weird domestic husband thing again?” Liam stage whispers to Niall, who replies with a short; 

“Yeah, they are unfortunately.” 

Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and hugs him tightly, entire body pressed against his and face hidden in the crook of Harry’s neck. When he laughs, his entire body shakes with it. 

“Uh, love, I sort of lost them? By accident.” 

“Oh, well fuck!” Harry exclaims dramatically, grinning and pushing Louis back to look at him. He hooks his finger underneath his chin and lifts Louis’ face up so that he’s looking at him too. 

“Your eyes are disgustingly green Hazza.” Louis tells him, searching for something in Harry’s eyes. His cheeks are pink and his smile is so wide, and so beautiful, that Harry can’t breathe from it. “I mean that in the best way possible,” he says, “I swear.”

From wherever Sophia’s sitting, Harry hears her grown loud and clear. He glances at her quickly and finds her perched on Liam’s lap, back pressed against his chest. “Just kiss him already, for goodness sake.” She snaps, throwing a button at them that hits Louis’ arm. 

Harry rolls his eyes at how pathetic his friends are and presses Louis against him even more. He looks down at him, grins, and closes the gap between them by kissing him deeply- eliciting a gasp from Louis. 

They kiss and live beautifully together. Harry thinks; you taste like everything I’ve ever wanted.

Louis thinks; please don’t fall in love with me. 

 

LONDON: AFTER

“I’m home.” Harry mumbles, closing the door behind him. 

His lecture today was so boring and half way through it, he fell asleep. To make things worse, he keeps seeing Louis everywhere. He seems him all the time but he’s never actually there and each time it happens, it feels as if someone’s smashed a brick onto his head. 

Niall looks up and smiles. It’s sympathetic and laced with pity. Harry hates that. In the corner, Liam’s freaking out over a game of flappy bird and Sophia’s cackling loudly over his shoulder, eyes trained on his phone. 

Out of nowhere, Gemma appears in front of him and beams at him with dark brown eyes. She looks like home. When he hugs her, he relaxes into her almost immediately. 

“I cooked some lasagne.” Gemma tells him, gleaming, “You’ve got to wait a couple minutes though because it’s not entirely finished yet.” 

Harry grins into her shoulder and nods his head before pulling back. 

“She almost cost us a new kitchen, though.” Niall adds, looking up and smirking at Gemma. She rolls her eyes at him and doesn’t hesitate with calling him out for being a fucking nuisance. 

Has Harry mentioned yet how everything still reminds him of Louis? He knows closure isn’t meant to feel like this because this, whatever it is, isn’t healthy- it can’t be. 

Ironically, it’s raining outside. The sky’s black and thick with grey clouds. Nothing about today has been pretty, nothing is beautiful about this current moment- there’s no warmth, no cool breeze, no music to sooth the storm happening in Harry’s mind. 

Jesus, he’s such a fucking idiot. They told him, he should’ve listened to them. Boys like Harry aren’t built to be love boys as vicious as Louis. He wasn’t built to endure such painful heartbreak. 

Why doesn’t he ever listen? Fuck, fuck, fuck it hurts so much. 

“Hey guys.” 

Liam looks up and nods his head at his direction. “Hey mate,” he chirps, smiling, “how was Uni?” 

“Eh, it was okay.” Harry tells him, sitting down next to Sophia. She presses a wet kiss to his flushed cheeks and laughs when he groans. “Quite boring, to be honest.” He says, looking at her and smiling before leaning his head on her shoulder. She turns her attention back onto Liam. “You?” 

“I didn’t go.” He replies, not looking back up. “I thought I had constipation, but it turns out I actually didn’t.” 

Gemma screams from the kitchen and runs into to tell him how disgusting he is. Niall and Sophia laugh, heads thrown back and arms clasped on their stomachs. 

Everything is loud and annoying. Fuck, it isn’t hard for Harry to understand why Louis never wanted to fall in love. (How annoying is it that everything always goes back to him?) He probably also once fell in love with somebody who never believed in love and, like Harry, he got fucked over. 

Harry hates him. He hates him with every fibre of his being. 

LONDON: BEFORE  
“Try not to fall in love with me, yeah?” Louis asks him one night. It’s late and their naked bodies, slick and sticky with sweat and other bodily fluids, are pressed together underneath thick blankets because it’s too cold outside.

Harry’s happy and content but it all quickly ends when Louis says what he’s just said. 

“Yeah, okay.” Harry slurs slightly, head still foggy. His voice is thick with sleep. “Go to sleep Lou.” 

LONDON: AFTER

After his lecture, Harry receives a phone call from a number he doesn’t know. He answers it and before greeting the person on the other side of the phone, he asks, “Hello, who is this?” 

There’s a beat of silence before Harry hears someone chuckle softly. “Hey stranger, have you deleted my number?” 

Which, okay. Uh, it’s been about seven months since Louis chewed up Harry’s heart only to spit it out onto his feet. It’s been a long time since they’ve last seen each other and Harry’s shocked that he hasn’t already hang up. Maybe he doesn’t hate him as much as he thought he did. 

He grips onto his phone even tighter and tries to convince himself that he’s chill; cool- he can handle a surprise phone call from a thief. “Uh, hi?” 

Louis laughs like everything that’s happened between them was nothing. Someone mumbles something to Louis that Harry’s unable to hear and Louis giggles- fucking giggles!!!!- Before saying; “Stop Zayn! I’m on the phone.” 

Zayn?

Louis clears his throat quickly when he hears Harry sigh into the speaker. “Anyway,” he says, voice trailing off awkwardly. “I’m, uh, having this thing in like two days and I’d really love it if you were there. It’s at my place, but on the roof.”

“A roof?” 

“A rooftop. Basically you’ve got to take the stairway until you reach the top of the building and get to a door.” 

“A door?” Harry remarks, laughing accidently. 

Delighted, Louis laughs too and says “yeah,” softly. “Please come? Call me if you get lost, okay?” 

Before he can even agree to go, Louis hangs up on him. They both know that even if he said no, he’d probably still come. 

LONDON: BEFORE

Some dude called Aidan from Louis’ drama course is throwing a party and Harry’s going as Louis’ plus one.

When they get there, everything’s pretty chilled. A lot of the people are super nice to Harry and Louis’ super tense next to him, hands to his side. What’s weird is that every time someone asks who Harry is to Louis, he’s quick to tell him or her that he’s just a really good friend. Some dude from Louis’ drama course is throwing a party and Louis’ taking Harry as his plus one. 

Each time that Harry moves to try and kiss him or hug him or even fucking hold his hand, Louis moves away from him and he isn’t sure what that means that his head is telling him it isn’t good and his heart is aching again like it’s been doing for the past couple of days. 

He’s obviously spent enough time with Louis to know that he’s a fat arsehole but this? Well this really sucks and when Harry gets absolutely shit faced drunk that night, he blames it all on Louis. 

When they get back to Louis’ apartment, Harry tells him that he’s one hundred per cent sure that he’s so in love with him and Louis tells him “you shouldn’t because I’ll break your heart and ruin you.” 

“I’d allow you.” Harry slurs. “Wouldn’t mind getting my heart broken by you, to be honest.” 

LONDON: AFTER

Harry’s late. His reasoning isn’t good enough but what’s done has already been done. 

What happened was that last night he got piss drunk (again) with a couple of his mates from his lectures and when he woke up this morning with the worst headache he’s ever had, there was a brunette asleep on his couch. 

The girls name is Amy and she slept with Niall last night, which isn’t as good enough of a reason for Harry to let her stay. So, unsurprisingly, he tells her to leave. 

Quickly showering, he hops into a cab and tells him to drop him off in front of Louis’ apartment before bursting through the doors and sprinting up the stairs, praising god for once in his life for his too-long legs. As he runs, he tries not to think of all the possibilities that could occur when he arrives. He can’t shake the scenarios unfolding in his head, out. 

Expectations: 

Harry gets to the top and finds the door they’d laughed about two days ago. The minute he opens the door and wonders out into the roof, the blazing hot sun welcomes him with open arms and the promise of sunburn. Louis’ standing right there and he looks so beautiful. He greets him with a soft kiss to his cheek and a smile as bright as the sun above them. 

He’s wearing a fitted black suit with a black and red David Bowie top underneath. He even bought a pair of brand new vans to go along with the outside and his pants have been rolled up to show his ankles. Harry catches a quick glimpse of the new tattoos there. 

“Harry, hey!” Louis shouts over the music, throwing his arms around Harry’s neck and smiling into his shoulder. “About time you arrived!” He tells him, pulling back and grinning even wider. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

Harry fucking beams at that before swooping down to kiss him really hard and super passionately, making everyone around them whoop for them because they’re breathtakingly beautiful and so, so, so good for each other. 

Reality: 

When Harry gets to the top, he opens the door and stumbles in. It’s chilly, despite the little bit of sun peeking out through the clouds, and he’s embarrassingly out of breath. When he stands up straight, he looks around and quickly realises how out of his league everyone is around him. 

There are flowers all over the place and it seems as though everyone knows who the other person is, except for him. A waiter walks past him and offers him a glass of red wine, which he takes without hesitation. 

He feels like such an outsider, but then again he is. 

Louis’ standing right at the corner of the roof, talking to some olive skinned man with chiselled features and warm amber eyes he can see even from where he’s standing. He’s laughing into his own glass of white wine-cheeks pink and smile wide. When he finally tears his gaze off the beautiful man standing in front of him, his eyes meet Harry’s almost immediately and he blinks in shock. Maybe he hadn’t thought Harry would actually come. 

He lifts his hand up as a way of telling Harry to wait where he is before turning his attention back to the Greek God in front of him. He tells him something, which earns him two kisses on each cheek. 

He jogs to harry and leans forward to give him a tight hug. “About time you arrived.” He grins. Harry relaxes a little and allows himself to laugh, even if it isn’t entirely genuine. “I was beginning to think you’d never come.” 

The smile on Louis’ face is too forced and Harry knows his is to. All of this feels rehearsed and none of it feels romantic nor does it feel familiar or right. 

Maybe Harry shouldn’t have come. 

Expectations: 

To start of with, there’s no Greek God in Harry’s expectations so that’s nice. It’s just him, Louis a bunch of other people who Harry doesn’t care for at all. They’re all on a rooftop, celebrating something Harry doesn’t understand. 

Louis introduces him to his family- his five sisters, one brother, two fathers and beautiful mum. They’re so lovely as individuals and to him. Jay thinks it’s absolutely amazing that he’s studying to be a visual artist and the first set of twins love the fact that he’s also an aspiring photographer. 

The smile on Louis’ face could set the world on fire. 

Harry’s buzzing with every kiss and touch Louis gives him. He could do this for the rest of his life. 

Reality: 

Louis introduces Harry to his family and none of his siblings pay any attention to him. 

His mum, Jay, is beautiful. Her hair’s dark and her eyes are bright. She asks; “So, what are you studying Harry?” with a stiff smile on her face that sends electric waves down Harry’s spine. 

“I’m an art major.” Harry tells her, forcing a smile, “but I do a bit of photography on the side for fun. I’m not sure where it’ll take me but I’d like to do something with that … uh, talent to.” 

Jay’s quick to make a face and Louis says nothing, he just looks away, not even bothering to stand up for him. “Can you even make money off doing that?” she asks him, lips pursed. 

Harry snorts and fights the urge to roll his eyes. What the fuck is she trying to say? Her son is the one studying dramatic arts and she has the audacity, the fucking nerve, to question him on whether or not he’s actually going to make a living off his passion? 

Cute. Instead of lashing out at her, he paints a fat sarcastic grin onto his face and shrugs his shoulders, jaw locked. “I will, thank you for asking.” He spits out, catching her off guard as well as shutting her up. 

He wants to leave, run away, but his feet are stuck to the ground and Louis’ anchoring him down with a heavy hand on his thigh beneath the table. 

He fucking hates this and he fucking hates Louis, still. 

Expectations: 

Greek God appears in Harry’s expectations this time, but not in the way he appears in reality. 

Louis waves him over to come and sit down with them after they’ve moved to their own table, away from Louis’ family. 

Greek God comes to them holding an unlit cigarette between his fingers. Harry’s eyebrows furrow slightly because this dude isn’t meant to feature in his expectations, yet here he is- making a surprise visit anyway. 

“Harry, I’m not sure if you’ve met Zayn yet.” Louis says, pointing to Zayn but never taking his eyes off of Harry. “He’s my best mate. He’s been living in Prague for the past year teaching English to the kids there.” 

Harry smiles at Zayn, who smiles back. Shit, he’s awfully pretty. 

“That’s amazing mate, I’m Harry.” 

Zayn laughs and it sounds like something too beautiful to find adjectives for. “Trust me,” he says, “I know.” He shakes Harry’s hand and Harry hisses a little at how cold his hands are. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” He sings, glancing at Louis quickly to shoot him a playful wink that’s got him blushing a ferocious red. “Louis hasn’t been able to stop speaking about you for the last seven months mate.” 

Reality: 

Up close, Greek God is even more beautiful. 

He kisses the tip of Louis’ nose and wraps an arm around his waist. “Hello love,” he greets him, Bradford accent thick and heavy. Louis smiles at him softly and tightens his hold on the empty glass of wine. 

The way he bites his lip reminds Harry of everything he’s lost. 

“Hmm,” Louis hums, sticking his tongue out at him. They look at each other for a while and Harry would leave but he’s so fucking confused. When Louis turns his attention on him, he takes a deep breathe before saying; “Uh, Haz … Harry. This is Zayn, my fiancé.” 

WHAT THE FUCK?  
WHAT THE FUCK?  
What. The. Fucking. Fuck???????

Harry chokes on his glass of wine and has to cover his arm over his mouth in shock. His eyes dart between them frantically. It doesn’t take long for him to recover though, from the shock, and he swallows fast, coughing into his arm before resting the glass on the railing and standing up taller. “Fiancé?” 

Louis’ gaze is hard. “Yeah.” He nods. 

“Oh,” Harry trails off slowly, nodding his head as he tries to process all this newfound information in his head. “Okay, well, I’m Harry.” He says to Zayn.

So, basically what Louis’ trying to say- but not actually saying- is that in the span of seven months of them not seeing each other and an entire year of them seeing each other, Louis miraculously found the time to get engaged?

“Afternoon, Lou’s never told me anything about you.” Zayn tells him, smiling genuinely and offering Harry a hand to shake. There’s so much sincerity and kindness in his voice that Harry can’t find it within himself to get angry. 

Louis doesn’t take his eyes off him, most defiantly searching for any type of emotion. Shame, Harry thinks, because he’s a master at not showing his true emotions when he doesn’t want to. 

“Really? That’s funny.” He says, eyes darting to the silver band around Louis’ finger. It catches the rays of the sun and Harry curses himself for being so stupid, for not having noticing that godforsaken ring before. 

He’s such an idiot, but so is Louis. What kind of person invites their mourning ex to their engagement party seven months after they’ve split? 

“Are you alright Harry?” Louis asks him slowly and Harry laughs. He actually laughs. He lets out this wild, crazy, laugh that shakes the entire place. Once he’s done, he looks at Louis and thinks, wow; you’ve really done it this time. 

“I’m fucking great, super duper actually. Ha, y’know what I need? A cigarette. Is that okay?” He pauses to take out a pack from his jacket before realising that he doesn’t need Louis anymore, if he can smoke because they’re not anything to each other anymore. “You know what?” he huffs, chuckling under his breathe, “don’t answer that. I’m going to head outside, yeah, and I’m not sure if I’ll come back up or not so by-“ 

“-You can smoke up here mate,” Zayn cuts him off, laughing. “Lou tried to make me quit smoking by breaking them all in half and sprinkling the tobacco outside my apartment window.” 

Louis rolls his eyes and hits him on the chest. “It’s going to kill you one day, not sure how I’d do without you.” 

Harry’s lighting a cigarette with shaking hand at the same time as Zayn says; “all things kill you in the end.” 

And the way they laugh together is absolutely beautiful. Harry totally understands why Louis would want to marry him. He’s beautiful and smart and sweet and not socially awkward in big crowds like Harry is. 

He’s everything Harry isn’t and that hurts more than it should. 

Harry takes a sharp drag of his cigarette and exhales loudly, gasping quietly when Zayn reaches down to kiss Louis unexpectedly. Without even noticing, he begins to walk backwards towards the door. “Ha, uhm, I’ve got to go. My, my dog died and I need to go.” He tells him once they’ve pulled apart. 

Louis’ quick to step forward, hand stretched out as if Harry’s going to come running back to him. Fuck, he hates him. Is he going to love him like this for the rest of his life? Is this how it’s always going to feel?

Harry’s back hits the steel door he came in through and he laughs nervously, waving Louis and Zayn off. “Bye Zayn, Bye Louis!” He shouts, “Hope your lives are beautiful!” 

Behind him, the door shuts roughly and he sprints down the stairs as fast as he can. His breathing is fast, his fingers can’t stop twitching, his heart is beating too quickly for him to catch up with it and his nose tingling in a way that tells him that if he doesn’t get out of this building in the next twenty seconds he’s going to fall apart even more. 

Expectations: 

‘I’m so sorry I broke your heart.” Louis tells him softly against his shoulder. 

Frank Sinatra’s playing on the record player and they’re swaying together slowly on the dance floor. Louis’ fingers are twirling around a ringlet on the nape of Harry’s neck and his head is buried in the crook of his neck. 

“It’s okay.” 

Louis shakes his frantically, lifting his head up to look at Harry and nibbling on his bottom lip. “But it isn’t okay. I was horrible to you; I left you crying and never even apologized for it. It wasn’t until I got home that day that I realised how big of a mistake I’d done, how much I actually really loved you- how much I love you.” 

Harry’s heart flutters in his chest and he smiles, leaning his forehead against Louis’ forehead. “Really?” 

“Really.” 

(Yeah, whatever, of course Harry’s aware that he’s getting his hopes way too high, but he’s always been a dreamer.) 

Reality:

It starts raining as soon as Harry gets to the train station. He cries on the way to Hyde Park and sits underneath the that stupid tree that looks out onto the stupid lake while smoking about five trillion cigarettes- which is a complete over exaggeration. 

To be honest, he’d rather die than hurt like this for any longer. 

LONDON: BEFORE

They’ve been walking around London aimlessly for the entire day- sneaking into private art exhibitions, visiting museums and eating so much that Harry can’t even bare to think about his next meal without feeling sick. 

It’s the most fun he’s had in ages. It feels so good to laugh again, to not feel so heavy all the time, to feel invincible again. 

“Tell me about your family, Lou.” 

Harry takes a deep breathe and Louis lays his head on his shoulder, interlocking their fingers together and resting them on his lap. 

Right now they’re sitting on a random bench in the middle of the sidewalk. There’s an infinite amount of space on the bench as a whole but Louis’ chosen to press himself against Harry, like there’s no space at all for the two of them and he’s got to squeeze. It’s okay though, Harry isn’t complaining.

“What d’you want to know?” Louis asks him, blinking languidly and yawning into his fist. 

“Anything.” I’ll take whatever I can get, He wants to say-I want to learn everything about you. 

Louis smiles against his shoulder. “Well, for starters, I’ve got five sisters and one brother. There are two pairs of twins and I’m the first born.”  
Harry laughs abruptly, shocked and so delighted. “Okay,” he chuckles, looking at Louis with wide eyes, “that’s a lot of siblings. What are their names?”

“It’s me, Charlotte, Felicite, Phoebe, Daisy, Doris and then Ernest.” 

“Who are the twins?” 

“The oldest pair are Phoebe and Daisy, and the youngest are Doris and Ernest.” 

Impulsively, Harry asks; “where are your parents?” and immediately regrets it afterwards when the grin on Louis’ face falls. “Fuck, shit, I’m so dumb. Sorry-“ 

“-I haven’t seen my real dad since I turned seven.” Louis cuts him off, squeezing his hand; “He fucks off with my mums best friend and had a child with her somewhere in Wales. I don’t think about him too much but it was hard when I was growing up. My mum’s still there, love her to pieces, I’ve had two step-fathers since my dad left- I took the firsts ones last name and I don’t know this one too much but he seems like a decent lad.” 

Harry bites on his bottom lip and opens his mouth to apologize to Louis, again. “Louis, again, I’m so-“ 

The laugh that Louis lets out startles Harry a lot. When Louis looks at him, his eyes aren’t the usual satin blue that Harry’s fallen so in love with- they’re dark and sad and ice cold. Taking his head between his hands, Harry pulls Louis’ face to his and kisses him until they’re both out of breath and panting. 

“I promise to never break your heart.” Harry promises against Louis’ forehead, pressing a moist kiss to the damp skin there. 

Obviously he knows that maybe that wasn’t the most appropriate thing to say and the way the smaller man tenses in his arms does nothing to cure the regret rumbling in the pit of his mind. 

“Yeah, but I might.” Louis murmurs softly, chewing on his bottom lip. Harry ignores his comment and swallows all the feelings begging to be spoken out into the world. He’s always been amazing at acting as if what’s hurting, isn’t. 

LONDON: AFTER

Louis William Tomlinson and Zain Javaad Malik  
Would be delighted to invite you  
To their wedding on  
21.11.201  
At three o clock in the afternoon  
At beehive lodge  
Dead Gardens, Chelmsford, CM1 GF1  
__  
Dinner and Dancing to follow  
_  
RSVP to zaynDJmalik@gmail.com

The invitation is beautiful. Harry reads it over and over again, but can’t find it in himself to be even a little bit ecstatic. Instead, he’s pissed off- fuming. 

The invitation is beautiful and it’s so obvious that Louis’ the one who designed. When Harry throws it into the fire he’s made in the fireplace, he doesn’t feel even an ounce of guilt. 

He’s angry and heartbroken, and before he can stop himself and think his next decision though, he’s in the kitchen- throwing each and every plate he can get his hands on onto the floor. 

“What the fuck are you fucking doing?” Liam screeches as he runs into the kitchen. Trailing behind him are Gemma, Niall and Sophia who look just as shocked as Liam. Harry thinks they shouldn’t be so surprised; this meltdown was bound to happen at some point- whether it’s today or in a decade, it was coming. 

“I-“ He lifts up a place and throws it right above Liam’s head. The noise it makes his blood boil even more. Liam looks down at the shards of glass at his feet and then up at Harry with wide brown eyes. 

Harry’s got no time to feel bad before he’s lifting another plate. 

“-Hate-“ He throws the next plate right between Sophia and Gemma, who jump to their sides. Sophia stumbles into Liam and moves to stand behind him. 

“-Him.” He grabs three more plates’ just to throw them all, one at a time, in front of Niall who doesn’t even flinch. He takes a step back and sighs at the same time as Harry stops suddenly and takes in a large breathe in to try and regulate his breathing pattern back to normal again. 

It’s so hard not to cry when your heart is so sore. Harry looks up; meets Gemma’s gaze and can’t hold back the embarrassing sob that racks through his body when he falls to the floor. 

A few seconds pass before the initial shock settles and everyone’s running towards him. They kneel down next to him and wrap their arms around him. Harry’s claustrophobic and as much as his brain tells him that he doesn’t want so many arms touching him, doesn’t want anyone holding him, he actually needs this more than he’ll ever admit- needs them. 

“I-I, fuck, just don’t know what I fucking did wrong, y’know?” he cries out, clutching onto the thin material of Gemma’s jersey. “Why did I let him do this to me? I feel so stupid, god.” 

Gemma holds him close to her chest, nimble fingers combing through his unruly curly hair. She kisses him on the shoulder and breathes in when he breathes out. “None of this is your fault.” She murmurs to him as Sophia rubs his back and presses a kiss to his shoulder. 

“It sort of is… no offence.” Liam cuts in quietly, making an awkward sound as he pats Harry’s knee. 

“Yeah,” Sophia agrees, “sorry love, but he did tell you from the beginning that love was a big deal breaker for him. Which is funny since he’s getting married. He really is the biggest fucker to every walk this earth, wow.”

Harry snorts into the crook of Gemma’s neck, smiling involuntarily. He pushes himself off her and leans back against the cupboards behind him. “Trust me, I know.” He laughs hoarsely. 

“Okay, so most of your heartbreak is partially because of the fact that you’re stubborn and Louis’ beautiful, but I mean it’s always the ridiculously gorgeous ones who’ve got hearts made of stone. And, like, life sucks most of the time, yeah? You get your heart broken by some dude with enviable cheekbones and spectacular blue eyes, but one day you’ll be okay and everything would’ve been worth it in the end because you’ll find someone so much better than what you lost, okay? Like, even if you don’t find somebody- I know you’ll be okay.” 

Harry blinks up at Niall with blurry eyes and a stuffed nose. He takes a tissue from Liam and thanks him softly before looking back at Niall and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I love you guys so much.” 

“So does the universe Chicken,” Niall grins, bright and full of life, “lesson’s are learnt everyday, don’t let this one ruin everything for you- not when you’ve got so much to be happy for.” 

 

LONDON: BEFORE

After Louis finishes his lecture, he finds Harry outside waiting for him and plants a wet kiss to his lips. 

Their walk to Hyde Park is eventful, especially since they’re both in a very happy mood. On the way, Louis chats to Harry about some stupid asshole that said something disgustingly homophobic that day, in English Lit. Harry listens and laughs when he’s supposed to, hands clasped together tight. 

“You’ve got the loudest laugh I’ve ever heard.” Louis tells him as they put on their roller blades on. Harry rolls his eyes and tries to act super nonchalant about the comment, but in actual fact his heart has tripled in size as a result of the grin adorning Louis’ face. 

“Okay.” Harry replies sheepishly. 

After the struggle of getting Louis to stand up straight on his roller blades without toppling over, they walk down to the cement and once they’re on the cement, Louis squeezes onto Harry’s hand and tells him that “I think this is where I tell you that I can’t roller blade to save my life.” 

Just as he says that, he trips forward and Harry moves quick to pull him back up to his feet. They laugh loudly together and people turn to look at them, amused and enthralled because they’re so beautiful together- so invincible. 

The sun’s been out for a few days now. It’s the middle of summer and Harry can already feel the sunburn forming on his bare shoulders. He narrows his eyes at Louis and places his hand above his eyes in order to block out the sun that’s shining directly at him. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks him, furrowing his eyebrows. “If I wasn’t such a good person I wouldn’t allow you to hold my hand at all, but I am-“ Louis snorts at that and Harry pinches at his sides. “-So I’ll let you let me guide you through it because I think you’re spectacular and I care for you deeply.” 

“Yes sir.” Louis salutes, grinning and tightening his grip on Harry’s hand. 

“But for the love of God, please do not let go of my hand.” 

What happens afterwards is:  
LouisLouisLouis. He’s chaotic, loud and beautiful- tripping and falling and shouting and panicking because; “Jesus Harold, stop moving so fucking fast! I’m not a world class roller bladder like you.” 

Louis’ pumping through his veins and looking at him like he’s the best thing that’s ever existed. Louis’ the sunstroke he’ll most defiantly suffer through tonight and he’s the freckles forming across the bridge of his nose. He’s here and there and everything- Harry wants to love him forever. 

Later on that day, they get back to Harry’s apartment and fuck. It’s slow and passionate; Harry runs his hands all over Louis’ body and kisses him deeply before littering love bites all across his collarbones. 

Louis whispers an “I love you” quietly, after he’s cum. He’s sleepy and pliant, but great and Harry knows he doesn’t mean it but it still really gets to him. Everything hurts suddenly and the only way he knows how to stop it nowadays is to kiss Louis, so he does. He leans forward and kisses him softly, biting down on his bottom lip because he wants him to feel a little bit of the pain he feels every time he’s reminded that he loves a love that does not love him back. 

“I love you too.” He replies, praying for his lungs to work again because he feels as if he can’t breathe. “I really do.”

LONDON: THE END OF IT ALL (OR THE ONE WHERE HARRY FORGIVES, LEARNS AND TAKES THE WORLD BY STORM)

Three months have passed since Harry last saw Louis at his surprise engagement party. (It was a surprise for him) and another has passed. 

For Harry, nothing much has changed. He’s taken up photography as his second subject, besides Art, and has even managed to finish a novel slash semi-autobiography. It isn’t amazing, but his friend’s love it. He’s even managed to get into contact with a great publishing company who love it too. He still lives with Niall, Sophia and Liam, however they’ve moved to a bigger apartment since Gemma moved in with them from Manchester. He still hasn’t trimmed his year since 1803, but he got himself a septum piercing, a cat and self-acceptance, which isn’t as great as other peoples changes, but it’s a good first step to being better than what he was last year. 

Currently, it’s twelve-fifteen in the afternoon and he’s skipped a lecture on the works of Irma Stern to sit underneath the same stupid tree he’s been sitting under for two years. Ironically, there are people around him who have chosen to sun bathe despite the lack of sunlight. 

Harry snickers and seamlessly watches the interactions between a couple as they jog past him, laughing and holding hands. As much as he tries not to let it hurt, it always does, and despite having come to terms with his heartbreak, it doesn’t mean that he’s stopped thinking about how everything crumbled with his heart. 

There are days when he can’t get out of bed, and not just because of his heartbreak but also because of everything else that had been happening outside of the little bubble he’d made from love and Louis, that just came crashing towards him again when the one thing that had been blocking those thoughts had left too. There are days when he feels numb, when he wonders whether heartbreak and life are actually meant to hurt so bad because it’s awful. How do people deal with this more than once? How did they live through it?

No matter what happens in the end, Harry never wants to become what Louis became- never wants to hurt anyone the way he hurt him. Because, regardless of how naïve or cliché it might make him seem to some people, Harry believes in love and soul mates and fate, and he thinks they’re all beautiful and worth everything. 

Worth this, even. 

Lighting up his seventh cigarette, he closes his eyes and tries to think of whether or not this cigarette is his seventh or seventeenth because he’s been smoking since he got out the shower this morning. 

Out of the blue, a stranger seats themselves too close to Harry for his like and he quickly figures out that this stranger isn’t a stranger at all, but is in fact Louis- the last person in the universe that Harry ever wanted to see again. 

“Hel-“ 

“-I hate you.” Harry cuts him off. He’s always had the worst case of verbal diarrhoea in awkward timings. “D’you know how much I despise you?” 

(He did say he leant self-acceptance, but he never said he learnt forgiveness, so…) 

Harry takes a sharp inhalation of his cigarette and waits for Louis to say something but he doesn’t even though the entire world is aware of the words aching to burst out of his big mouth. It’d be sad if Harry didn’t actually want him to speak. This is his chance to say everything that’s been weighing down his soul since they meet. 

“D’you know what’s really fucking awful about us ever meeting and you leaving?” 

“…I-“ 

“-That was a rhetorical question.” Harry snaps, cutting Louis off as well as shutting him up. He inhales again and starts off from where he left off. “What’s awful is that no matter how much I try to hate you more than I already do, I can’t. It sucks that I just can’t because that just proves how much I’ve still not gotten over you. I loved you, you fucking shit, and I’d be lying if a little bit of me didn’t, which is so fucking dumb of me, right?” He laughs maniacally, shaking his head to himself. “I should’ve just listened to my friends,” he says after two beats of silence, “they told me to stay away from you, even you did, even I did and I stayed because I thought you were the most beautiful person to have ever laid their hands on me. You’re a fucking tumour Louis. I let you in and it almost killed me.” 

With one last, long, drag of his cigarette, he exhales and shoves it in the pockets of his camel coat that Sophia got him in Italy. 

“Fuck you, well done for being the biggest piece of shit to ever grace this earth.” 

As that sentence leaves Harry’s mouth, Louis winces loudly and he sounds like a wounded puppy. Harry doesn’t have the heart to apologise to him nor does he want to even look in his direction. 

Which is exactly what he does seconds after that thought when he turns his heart to his life and meets his gaze. 

Nothing about him as changed except for the fact that he’s cut his hair and is wearing an extremely expensive navy suit with bright red socks, which is the little piece of evidence that Harry uses as confirmation that he hasn’t changed- that the Louis he knew way, way back is still the same Louis standing in front of him- glowing despite the sun being there to shine on him. 

Harry lights another cigarette. From the corner of his eye he sees Louis cringe and thinks to himself that he’d stamp it out if he wasn’t so disgusted by his presence. What a shame for him. 

When he exhales, he turns his head to the right so that he doesn’t blow it all in Louis’ face. At least he’s polite. 

Being the overdramatic person Louis is though, he still coughs maniacally and calms down when he sees that Harry hasn’t flinched. Wiping his hand across his mouth, he greets Harry with a “Hi.” 

“Hey.” 

“How are you?” 

“Better.” 

Louis bites on his bottom lip and sighs. “That’s good,” he says unsurely, voice soft. This is the first time Harry’s ever heard him sound so hesitant. He’s always been so loud, so charismatic and hard not to pay attention to. Things were always so easy with him. 

“Uh, well, I’ve bee-“ 

Harry smirks sharply. “-I don’t recall ever asking how you were, darling.” 

Immediately, Louis’ shy façade grows sour and he huffs annoyingly, rolling his eyes to the back of his head. “Stop being such a dick!” he exclaims, voice sharp and loud. Caught off guard, Harry exhales the smoke he inhaled seconds ago and bats his eyes in shock, eyelashes brushing down against his cheekbones. “I’m trying.” Louis tells him, voice more confident than before as tries to blow away the grey clouds of smoke in front of his face, with his hand. “And your bitterness isn’t exactly helping our situation.” 

Harry tilts his head to the side and pulls a face. “What’s our situation Louis?” he asks, snorting. “What is it?”

Angry, Louis tightens his fists on his lap and clenches his jaw, eyes set on Harry’s and lip tilted up into a nasty looking snarl. “This is our fucking situation! This, right here, is what it is! You and me are the situations, and yes I’ll admit I’m responsible for a majority of it, but I’m also the only one who’s trying to-want to-fix this Harry. I need to know that you’re okay. I need to know that you miss me because I miss you so much. I just want us to be friends, at-“ 

Harry stops him there and snarls at him in disgust, body heating up in anger and hurt and every painful feeling he swept under a carpet to make himself feel better the mess he was then (and still is now.) 

“-Oh wow, look at that- look at you! Let us all feel tremendously bad for poor little Louis, because he’s got the greatest fucking heart and the most pure intentions, how fucking fantastic of him!” Harry shouts, overwhelmed. His hands are shaking and his throat feels lodged up. “Fuck you Louis, how pathetic of you to have come and ruined my afternoon by drowning me in self-pity and bullshit.” He spits, crushing his cigarette and burying it into the sand.

“-Harry, please…” 

“No! No, what the fuck d’you expect me to say? Of course I fucked missed you! I miss you all the time! When you had been rehearsing this, were you expecting me to just have fallen to your bloody shoes and be happy that you want to pick up the pieces of the mess you made? I’m fine doing it myself, I’ve accomplished things without you- I might not be very far but I’ve gotten to a point in this fucking life of mine where I don’t need you to be involved in it again for me to be better, okay?” he lets out a shaky breathe, heart beating too fast for his lungs to keep up with and tears welling in his eyes from anger- nothing else but anger and hurt. “You’ve ruined me Louis. I didn’t know who I was anymore when you left and I’m only learning new parts of me I never knew before now-2 whole fucking years fucking later, Louis. And you probably don’t care at all? That you’ve gone around breaking people’s hearts because you were too selfish to learn that life moved on, that your parents horrible divorce wasn’t a reflection of how love between people was for every person in a world where more than seven billion people existed. You’re a sad broken boy who hurts people in order to gain a reasoning you can fall back on when explaining your views of falling in love.” 

Louis’ gaze never wavers from him. Like Harry, his breathing is quick and his bottom lip is red, and swollen, from chewing on it so much. His eyes are glossy and all Harry can think is; ‘good.’ 

He’s got enough anger pumping through his veins to wipe at a whole army. And to think there was once a time when Louis pumped through his veins instead. 

“You’re so fucking selfish.” Harry tells him viciously, voice quieter than before. He wipes angrily at the hot tears streaming down his face and feels no shame in crying in front of Louis like this- nothing’s wrong with crying, is what Gemma tells him all the time, since they were young- when you feel, you feel, and you should never be ashamed of hurting and trying and relearning the person you once were before the lights went off. 

Louis’ quick to bite back, and he does so with a sniffle and a shout of; “Well, so are you!” He’s flustered and red in the face. “I told you in the beginning that falling in love with me was a bad idea, I told you countlessly throughout the time we spent together and you never fucking listened! You just kept going on about how me breaking your heart was something you’d like, which is so fucked up. You knew, you bloody well knew that I couldn’t do what you wanted me to! But still, you tried to keep me all to yourself- tried to make me love you when I fucking couldn’t. You never let me breath Harry. You were always there, always trying and that, Harry, was so selfish of you! What logic is there in trying to force someone to love you when they told you they didn’t know how all the time, and then get angry at that person for ‘breaking your heart?’” He stops to take a deep breathe in and runs a hand down his face. They’re causing attention again, but for a different reason now. He snaps his translucent blue eyes back up to meet Harry’s stare and locks his jaw. “Don’t you dare try to drown me in your ditch of self pity.” He growls. 

“Self pity?” Harry snorts, eyes wide with false amusement. “Now that’s something you must know a lot about.” 

Louis twirls the silver band around his wedding finger and looks at Harry through slits. “You’re bitter.” 

“So are you.” 

Louis frowns harder and shakes his head. “No,” he disagrees quickly, “I’m not. Not anymore Harry. I’m happy.” 

“Tell me that in five years.” 

At Harry’s cutting words, Louis visibly deflates and slumps against the tree behind him. Is he giving up? Harry wouldn’t know since the only thing he’s ever seen Louis Tomlinson give up on, other than math, is Harry. 

He runs his hand down his face again before cupping the hand over his mouth and breathing deeply into it. His cheeks are wet and he makes no move to wipe them. He’s still so beautiful. “God,” he breathes out, voice breaking, “I’m so sorry Harry.” He apologizes, sniffling. “I’m so fucking sorry. I-I should’ve, I don’t know. Fuck. I never intended on … this.” 

Surprisingly, Harry shrugs his shoulders and looks at Louis through matted eyelashes as he lights up another cigarette with shaking hands. Believe it or not, but Harry’s goal is life is to not actually die from lung cancer; it’s just that he doesn’t have a distraction or reason not to smoke anymore. 

“Whatever,” he mumbles, “shit happens. Life moves on and so will I.” 

Four minutes of uncomfortable silence pass. Louis speaks up on the fifth minute. “I hope I’ve inspired you to paint more. Your art is lovely.” 

The corners of Harry’s lips quirk up into a tiny smile and he says, “I know, but thank you. It doesn’t change anything, but I appreciate it. They’re all quite depressing to be honest.” 

“I can imagine.” Louis comments, making them both laugh. It’s funny how they can go from zero all the way to one hundred in below thirty minutes. Harry’s going to miss him, he truly is, but he knows this is for the best. 

He’s doing this for himself; he’s living his life for himself. He’s going to do such great things someday and it’ll all be because he persevered. 

London’s so beautiful, and so is Louis. One day, all he’ll be is a hazy memory and a character in a story of how Harry loved, broke and created something bigger and better from the pieces left behind. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Louis looks back at him and sniffles, fishing in his pocket for a tissue. “Is it going to be offensive?” he asks, before blowing his nose and putting the tissue back into his pockets. 

Harry laughs and shakes his head no. “Okay then,” Louis says, smiling into the palms of his hands. The last time they were here he’d been wearing black skinny jeans, a baggy long sleeve grey jersey and an oversized yellow raincoat. That was so long ago. “Ask away.” 

“Why? Like, I still don’t know how you went from not believing in love to being married a year and a half later.” 

Louis clears his throat and wipes his hands on his pants; a nervous habit Harry took notice of on their third date. “I met him, Zayn, the day after we broke up-“ 

“-We hadn’t been dating.”

“-Yeah, whatever, but still. I meet him and he was, like, everything I wasn’t, y’know? Like, he was so different and we hang out a lot and things moved way too quickly but for some reason, it didn’t scare me the way it did with … you. It was like, one day I woke up and just knew.” 

There’s a pause and then there’s Louis lacing their hands together and then there’s a type of familiarity that has Harry thinking; ‘yeah, I don’t deserve this pain- no one does, and if this is what people call closure than I want to experience this time and this time only.’

“Harry, he’s so beautiful and so kind and so loving, and with him it’s like my lungs have expanded. I can breathe with him and I’ve never experienced that with anyone else before, There’s never not been a relationship- or whatever- that I’ve been in where I didn’t feel trapped, but with him it’s different. Like, fuck, I don’t even know sometimes … it’s all so overwhelming and new, but I love him so much and I never knew that being in love with someone who loved you back just as much could feel this … this good. You know?”

“Yeah.” Harry chokes out, trying not to cry. Oh, the irony. “I do, I do.” 

“He’s, like, the only exception for me- like that paramour song!” He laughs delightfully at his joke, eyes bright and blazing. “I want to spend the rest of my life with him because he makes me feel like the best person ever.” He squeezes Harry’s hand tighter and turns his head to look at the lake. The smile on his face could light up a city. “He’s everything I never knew I wanted.” 

Harry can’t help but think; you are everything I’ve ever wanted.  
There’s a longer pause that passes between them and it’s less uncomfortable than before. Louis looks back at Harry and smiles, breaking his heart one last time. It hurts less this time. Feels less like sadness and more like a reassurance that one day his life will fall into place and all the questions he never knew answers to will be right in front of him to hold. 

He smiles and thinks; I don’t need you Louis Tomlinson. I don’t need you at all because I used to exist without you and I will exist without you again. 

“Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“For teaching me that it’s okay to love without fear, that it’s okay to open yourself up and let love in because even if it ends badly, life still moves on despite it all. All this happiness I feel, it’s because of you. I know what I’m saying is something you don’t want to hear, but I need to thank you because after this I’m not sure if I’ll ever see you again. Also, I’m sorry. I’ve watched countless of heartbreaks, got my heart broken once and did the exact same thing to so many people because I was scared and bitter. I know how it feels- trust me. But I woke up one day next to you and it didn’t feel the same as it had in the beginning- didn’t settle well in my bones and soul like it had in the beginning.” 

“Okay,” Harry replies. He understands even though he doesn’t to a fuller extent. All he wants is the best for Louis and himself, and if what’s best for them isn’t each other than so be it. He’ll live through it like he’s lived through everything else in his life. 

They look at each other for a long time before Louis stands up. He bids his farewell to him, kisses him on the forehead as well as each of his knuckles. “Promise me that you’ll be okay,” he murmurs, lips pressed against his knuckles. “Promise me that you’ll conquer the world for me.” 

“I’ll be okay.” Harry replies, “but if I were to conquer the world, I’d do it for me. Not you. It was nice to know you Louis, have a good life.” 

Louis laughs loudly and hugs him once more before leaving. Harry doesn’t turn back to watch him. This is the end of a chapter in his life and he knows for sure that he’ll be okay- that’ll he’ll set the world on fire from his existence alone. 

There a few things you ought to know about Harry Edward Styles:  
1\. He’s twenty-four  
2\. He attends the Royal College Of Art in London where he studies visual arts and photography, two passions he can’t imagine himself not doing in the future.  
3\. Home is back in Holmes Chapel, a tiny village in Cheshire, Yorkshire. All he’s ever wanted to do since he was eight was leave.  
4\. That’s how he ended up in a big city like London.  
5\. One upon a time, though, he fell in love with a boy who, believe it or not, even went to the same university as him. However, this boy studied dramatic arts, which is why the first time they met had really been the first time. This boy had been beautiful and Harry had spent almost every day with him, imagining their future together even know he knew deep down inside that the boy didn’t imagine a future with him at all.  
6\. Harry’s always been a huge believer in love.  
7\. Which brings us to the next point. Harry loved this boy, loved him so much despite knowing that the love he loved didn’t know how to love. He loved the boy so much, but he’s learnt that there’s only a certain amount of love you can shove down someone’s throat before they throw it up all in your face and break your heart in the process.  
8\. It’s okay though, Harry will be okay because he’s got useless friends and a nosy sister residing with him in an apartment they can barely afford. And he’s got his mum as well as every single possibility in the world resting in the palms of his hands. 

 

*

Harry only heads home two hours later. When he gets home, Gemma’s sitting by the door instead of Niall and she’s scrolling through her phone aimlessly, bored and restless. At the sound of the door closing, her head snaps up and at the sight of him, she grins. 

“You look happy.” She comments, eyebrow quirked and cheeks tinted pink from the cold. 

“I’m getting there.” 

Like wild animals, Liam and Niall come stomping past him, out from Niall’s bedroom, and onto the floor of the living room. Sophia’s running behind them, frenzied look on her face as she catches sight of the two siblings in the kitchen. She waves at Harry quickly before diverting her attention back onto the two grown men flailing around all over the place, on the floor. “Oh my god!” she exclaims, exasperated, “will you guys just go back to bed?!” 

Niall cackles and looks up at Harry. “Hey mate!” he shouts, waving at him as if they’re in a large crowd of people and he’s trying to get he’s attention from the other side of the crowd. 

Sophia knees Niall in the stomach and Harry helps her pull them back onto their feet. “Why are they drunk?” he asks, snorting when she shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders. He turns back to look at Gemma and furrows his eyebrows. “It’s three in the afternoon, why are they drunk?” 

Gemma looks at him with a blank expression before looking back down to her phone. “None of them are my boyfriends. I have absolutely no control over what they do or don’t do because they aren’t my problem- Soph’s, defiantly- but not mine.” 

Harry laughs and lifts them back to their designated rooms, where he helps tuck them in with Sophia. They talk until Niall and Liam fall asleep. 

In the living room, Gemma’s watching The Big Bang Theory and they join her, carelessly throwing themselves on the sofa and snuggling together. 

When they go to bed, Harry lays in his bed and stares at the ceiling for an hour before nodding his head and reminding himself that he will be alright- he feels it. He’s got the whole world cheering for him, his sister leading him on, his mum supporting him all the time and his best friends who love him so much it’s overwhelming, but in a good way. 

Plus, London’s so glorious-it’s everything he’s ever dreamed of. He’s twenty-four for goodness sake, he’s got all the time in the world to fall in love again and again and again. 

(Before he falls asleep, he sniffs the pillow Louis used to sleep on and can still smell the faint remnants of his vanilla scented shampoo lingering on the thin material of the pillowcase. Before he goes to bed, he sniffs the pillow Louis used to sleep on and the faint remnants of his vanilla scented shampoo still linger on the thin material of his pillowcase. His heart aches, but it’s not as hard to ignore as it used to be and if that isn’t a sign for something good like closure and letting go, then fuck off.)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for making it this far, comment and criticise me but not to harshly bc my heart is too soft for that shit
> 
> i love you i love you 
> 
> Rat x


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